


Moving Away

by ForbiddenToast



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenToast/pseuds/ForbiddenToast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In soap operas everything always works out. The guy makes it there just on time, they kiss, and then go home and dance into the sunset.</p><p> ‘Only if real life was like that’ Patrick thinks wistfully, still seeking the comfort the pane of glass has to offer him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Away

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Imagine that Person A has to move away for a length of time, leaving B. As Person A is boarded and leaving on the plane/train/transportation, they look out the window to wave goodbye once more. But Person B didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
> 
> (Fluff Option: As Person A sits back into their seat sadly, someone takes the seat next to them- that person being B.)

It’s in that moment Patrick realises he watches too many soap operas for it to be healthy.

The cool surface of the glass is keeping him awake as he watches people scuttle about the train station, it’s busy for a Tuesday and he can see business people rushing to get their train and mothers trying to scramble their wailing children into the right compartment. It’s so noisy and chaotic and it sounds like the feeling clawing at his heart.

He’s got about half an hour until this train pulls out of Chicago and towards the far away land of his soon to be university, away from everything he’s ever known. His parents, his friends – the god damn music scene for crying out loud, and most importantly away from Pete.

Patrick feels like there’s going to be water running down his cheeks soon, just like the window if he doesn’t spot a glimpse of black hair and tan skin among the other commuters soon. He promised he would be here to say goodbye that he’d be waiting on the platform to wave him off, even if he knew what it meant.

Because Patrick remembers Pete saying he’d never do a long distance relationship, it’s too difficult on both parties and time consuming, and for all you know your ‘other half’ could be seeing someone else and you’d never know.

Closing his eyes, Patrick leans further against the cool glass, the compartment’s too stuffy and maybe university isn’t the best idea – perhaps he should grab his bag and go _home_ ; watch more crappy soap operas where the guy always chases his other half to the station or airport and begs them to stay, blabbering about how they can’t live without each other.

In soap operas everything works out as well. The guy makes it there just on time, they kiss, and then go home and dance into the sunset.

 ‘ _Only if real life was like that’_ Patrick thinks wistfully, still seeking the comfort the pane of glass has to offer him.

He can hear a child screaming from the other end of his carriage, and the seat he’s chosen has a splitter on its table and threads hanging loose. He’s miserable when really, he should be bursting with excitement to start a new life.

Except, the train’s leaving in ten minutes (has it really been that long?) and there’s no sign of Pete on the soaking platform. No big, cliché romantic gesture to send him off and Patrick just wants to break down. Get the fuck off this train and run home in the rain, into Pete’s arms. Even if he evidently doesn’t want him anymore and doesn’t see any point.

There’s an announcement being called out overhead, something about presenting a valid ticket when they depart and that’s when Patrick opens his eyes and risks a look out the window.

It’s raining heavier now, pouring onto the poor people on the platform but still no sign of Pete.

He’s never going to get to say goodbye properly, the conclusion washes over the red head like a cold shower and that’s when he tugs his hat further over his head, in a vain hope that the woman across from him doesn’t notice the tears welling up in his eyes.

Pete’s going to find someone else while he’s studying far, far away. He’s finally realised that Patrick was dragging him down. That someone like _Patrick_ _Stump,_ a chubby, insecure, music snob doesn’t belong with someone like _Pete_ _Wentz_ , the famous musician from the Chicago music scene that has a _future_ _here_ in music.

Staring out the window, Patrick’s still, somehow clinging to the hope that _maybe_ Pete will remember him for a while, even if it is as that kid who bumped into him at a show and eventually went out with him for a while, when a bag hits his shoulder _hard_.

Patrick’s not in the mood though, so he just scoots closer to the window as the train starts to pull out of the station slowly and tugs his arms as close to him as humanly possible.

That’s when someone sits down beside him and he receives a lovely elbow into the side of his ribcage.

This person, apparently, has no regard for personal space because they’re taking up every inch and cranny of their tiny seating arrangement as possible. There’s a bag nudging against the calf of Patrick’s leg (what’s wrong with the overhead compartment?) and the guy’s leg is practically lying on top of Patrick’s.

Still looking out of the window, Patrick’s trying to make himself not murder his travel companion. He’s watching the city fly by, fast and quickly and away from everything he knows and cares about.

And he wants to fucking cry, he feels childish it but he can’t fight the watery feeling building up in his eyes.

That is until Mr-No-Personal-Space pokes him in the side and all of the emotions filling him up just turns to anger.

“Would you fucking stop that?!” He spits and rips his head away from the cool comfort of the window. “Seriously. “ Whirling around to face his annoying neighbour, Patrick almost punches the guy sitting next to him.

No, he does punch the guy next to him. Hard.

“What the fuck Patrick!?” _Pete_ shout-whispers, rubbing his arm where Patrick’s furious fist hit him.

Gaping like a goldfish, Patrick makes sure the person beside him really is here and that this isn’t some twisted form of homesickness nobody told him about. “I- you-“

“I wanted to surprise you,” Pete half-elaborates as he completely makes sure that Patrick has no personal space left and is making sure to ignore the woman’s (that’s across from them) appalled look. “Thought it’d be romantic.” He thinks out loud “Obviously not.”

“Y-you,” Patrick’s still reeling, he just convinced himself that Pete’s forgotten about him and now this? “I don’t understand, the band-“

“Like that piece of shit was going anywhere, Pattycakes.” Pete cuts off and for once Patrick doesn’t cringe at the nickname, it’s nice to be able hear it. “Besides,” Wrapping an arm around Patrick Pete snuggles up to him in the cramped seating. “I was hardly going to turn down an English position at Uni was I?”

“ _You_ got a place in _my_ Uni?” Patrick asks, and convinces himself that this is a dream. Pete’s still in Chicago, not on a train with him.

“ _Our_ Uni, Lunchbox” Pete corrects and lets his head rest on the top of Patrick’s cap. “Now hush, I’ve got some serious cuddling and making up to do.”

“Okay…” Is all Patrick can say while he tries to fish out his ticket with Pete wrapped around him like a koala.

“Oh, one more thing,” Pete mumbles before he has to find his own ticket, which unfortunately means he’ll have to let go of Patrick eventually.  “Can I room with you? ‘Cause I think it’d be really beneficial for all parties…”

Patrick doesn’t even bother to reply, he’s too busy trying to fight the blush off his face before the ticket guy comes around and Pete already knows the answer’s yes so what’s the point?

Maybe the cliché soap opera thing isn’t that far-fetched after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I will write something other than cliché happy endings one day, promise.


End file.
